Prologue
by admiral-cain
Summary: All I knew is that when I was around people I knew exactly how they felt, and I could show my feelings right back. Even force them to feel whatever I pleased. He says I have the potential to do extraordinary things. I'm terrified of what he means.
1. I: Anger

_**Consider this my break from La Fleur De La Lumiere! This in the end will basically be a one-shot sized prologue to the multi-chaptered Heroes story I would like to pursue eventually. However, this can also be a stand-alone piece, so it's going by itself. The chapters will be extremely short, but it just feels better than putting all the parts together. Of course, reviews are always wonderful and appreciated! **_

**Disclaimer:**_** I do not own Heroes, or anything related to Heroes. Basically, if you recognize it, it doesn't belong to me. Also, this will contain eventual femmeslash, but nothing bad. If that isn't your thing, don't say I didn't warn you. **_

**I. ANGER**

Everything was red.

Anger filled my bones, reached to the very core of me, pumping from my heart and filling my body. My mind screamed for the outward release, I needed to do something! The screams and yells and harsh words around me faded out, overwhelmed by a loud ringing. Impossibly loud, I had to do something! Vision blurred by tears, by blood, I could see nothing but shapes. Shapes that were people, or animals, those had become one in the same. The ringing grew louder; I pulled my legs to my chest, trying to still the quaking in my joints. Nothing helped, it wasn't going away. I wanted it all to stop, I needed it to stop. I just had to do something! I stood, body hardly my own, my lips moved but no sound came out. I'd gathered their attention then, for once, for longer than ever before.

And I failed.

Reduced to a shuddering heap on the linoleum floor, cold attacking me despite the season. I couldn't move, I couldn't do anything but watch now as the red faded and colors returned. The gazelle had another shape, something that didn't belong. It hit the fierce lion with a crack louder than the ringing, like thunder, and the lion was no longer a lion. Its mighty body hit the ground, immobile. It didn't move, and nor did I. Another color melded with the lion, inching along the cool floor, before reaching my fingers. It was warm and slick, not unpleasant but unforgiving nonetheless. I twitched, gaze moving upwards. The gazelle looked down upon me with a lion's face. I couldn't move.

"Go to sleep, honey. When you wake up, everything will be okay…"


	2. II: Grief

**II. GRIEF **

**Regret, Remorse, Angst, Self-Pity**

Everything was blindingly white.

The walls, the floor, the sheets, everything was the same pristine color. The quick change from the darkness of sleep to the overwhelming shade of the room made my eyes ache, but a few blinks and I slowly adjusted. I sat up, finding myself in a small twin bed, covered by a thin sheet. Not only was this room painfully bright, it was also absolutely freezing. I managed to force myself from under the sheet, being fully exposed to the cold air. Where was I?

The room was unfamiliar and fairly plain. The walls to the left, right, and behind me were all cinderblock. In front of me, the whole wall was nearly engulfed by a window to another room. It was empty. Looking around, all there was in my room was a bed, a toilet, a sink, and a desk. My gaze moved to the door, and I walked towards it. My whole body felt stiff, like I'd been asleep for days. My fingers grasped the cold metal of the handle, and I turned it, but it wouldn't budge. I was locked in.

But why?

I shuffled back to the bed, sitting down, wracking my brain and trying to find reasons as to why I'd be locked in a room. Mom and dad had gotten in a fight again, that's the last thing I remembered. So why was I here? They fought all the time like that, so why now? Trying once again to remember, there was a click and the door to the room opened. My head shot up and I stared into the doorway, it was my mom. Almost immediately, I shot up and ran to her, giving her a big hug.

"Good, you finally woke up…" She said, I returned her statement with questioning eyes. Her face was painted with the same smile I often saw her wear, it wasn't a happy smile. "You've been asleep for days, I was worried." She ran her fingers through my dark hair, I always liked how it felt. "What happened?" I asked. It took her a long time to answer.

"There…was an accident…" She began to explain, already this wasn't sounding good. "Something happened…when your dad and I were fighting. Something bad." Her voice cracked, tears formed in her eyes, but she kept that same smile. "I'm sorry about this, Gabriel, but it's for your own good." With that, she pulled from me, stepping backwards out the doorway, I didn't move.

"I'm sorry."

The door shut and locked with a click.

I couldn't move, I was immobilized. What was she talking about? What had happened to dad? She said it was something bad, and the only thing I could think of worse than what normally happened was death. Did mom kill him? My breathing quickened, it had to be true. What else could've happened? It felt like there was a pit in my stomach, and a lump began to form in the back of my throat. I wasn't sad, not about dad. I'd wished him dead for as long as I could remember. But why was I crying?

Tears streamed down my face as I leaned against the desk for support. I just had a horrible feeling, a feeling like I'd done something wrong. Surely it was mom who did it, but I felt bad. Like the final blow had come from my hand. But that didn't matter. Mom would get better soon, and she'd come back for me. Wouldn't she?

For some reason, I didn't feel so sure about that. I felt like she was going to leave me here.

Forever.


	3. III: Loneliness

**III. LONELINESS**

**Unhappiness, Sadness, Melancholy, Sorrow, Depression**

I'd yelled and screamed until my voice was hoarse, until my throat cracked and bled, until I physically could scream no more. It seemed like no one was going to come, that no one could hear me through the thick walls, through the glass. I screamed and screamed, but my mother never came back. The only visit I'd gotten in months was from a man who called himself Bob, and all he told me was that my father died.

And that it was my fault.

I didn't want to believe him at first, how could I have possibly done that? But now, it was beginning to make sense. I could feel people, more specifically, I could feel what they were feeling. It was all the time, I couldn't block it out. I knew there were people in this building, I could feel them, but I never could see them. Often times, I could recognize people from how they normally felt. I had no names, but I had emotions. In this place, they were my only friends. Friends I never could see or hear or talk to, friends that probably didn't even know I existed.

Every day was the same. I'd wake up, there'd be breakfast waiting for me on the desk. I'd eat, then pace for a while to keep my muscles from locking up forever with stiffness. Then, I'd lie back down and concentrate on finding people in the building. There was the cold man, he was always indifferent, a light shade of blue. Then there was the frustrated one. Every day, without exception, I could feel him walking around entirely overtaken by frustration. He stood out as a shade of vibrant orange. My favorite, though, was the passionate one. She wasn't as set in routine as the others, sometimes she would be in different moods. I always knew it was her, though, she was one I couldn't mistake.

I wish I knew who she was.

All this thinking tended to put me to sleep once more, and I'd take a nap until it was dinner time. Once again, I'd wake up, and there would be a new tray of food in my room, still hot. I'd eat, and then return to thinking. It's all I had to pass the time, after all. Once it was time for bed, I'd think up some imaginative stories, sometimes I pretended it was my mother reading me a bedtime story, like she used to. It helped me calm down, and helped me sleep dreamless.

For the most part.

Sometimes the dreams came, the dreams of that night with the lion and the gazelle, and all the red. Sometimes, in those dreams, I knew what I was doing. I knew exactly what was going on. Sometimes, I didn't, I was oblivious. I always just wanted it to end. I wanted all the pain and screaming to end, I wanted my mom to stop hurting. I wanted things to be happy.

But, most of all, I wanted my father to die.


	4. IV: Annoyance

  


**IV. ANNOYANCE**

**Agitation, Bitterness, Resentment, Disgust, Hate, Rage**

I had no reason to be angry with the man. He was merely doing his job.

He'd been sent to interview me, to ask me about my past and about everything I'd been feeling lately. It took a while to get used to talking again, but when I finally did, I complied fully. I guess it just wasn't what he wanted from me, I could feel waves of annoyance radiating from him, penetrating my brain. Frowning, I asked him a simple question. "What am I doing wrong?"

He simply blew up.

"Everything!" He screamed at me, annoyance moving to rage in record time. "Why can't you just tell me what you can do?! That's all we need!" I was confused, what was he talking about? I could feel people's emotions, I'd said that. What more did he want? "Just tell us how the hell you possessed your mom!"

"But...I never possessed her…"

"Tell me how you possessed your mom and forced her to kill your father!"

"I didn't-"

"Tell me!"

Anger seemed to rush through my veins, flooding my brain. I didn't know where it was coming from, I wasn't angry, and then a second later I was filled with rage. I bit my tongue to hold back the words I wanted to say, they just didn't feel like my words. All this, all this felt like it wasn't mine. My head seared with pain, it felt like it was going to split in half. I needed to fix it. I needed it to stop.

"STOP!" I screamed as loudly and with as much emotion as I could, relieving the pressure on my skull. I opened my eyes, which had been clamped shut. The man seemed to shrink back, picking up his pen and scribbling some notes in a file. The feeling of anger dissipated, and his main emotion returned to his previous annoyance. I was confused. From all my observation, I saw that anger didn't just go away. Not like that. Had he been faking it? He was really good if he had. And I didn't know what had happened with me, I was angry, then I was. It was the same anger I felt that night.

All I knew was that it hurt when it happened.

Flipping the folder shut, the man left the room, having to step past another standing in the doorway. I recognized him as Bob, the man that talked to me a year earlier. He was the only other person I'd seen besides the doctor-man, of course I recognized him. How long had he been standing there? My anger had made it impossible to tell he'd approached. Even now, his emotion took a long moment to register. It was indifference.

A cool blue.


	5. V: Delight

**V. DELIGHT**

**Surprise, Awe, Gladness, Gratitude**

It was her birthday.

I didn't know her name, I didn't know anything but her emotion, but it didn't really matter. I woke up to find her playing in the room attached to mine, with a red bouncy ball. Her skin seemed to glow a mixture of yellow and white. It was comforting to see someone in this place that was actually happy. The smile that crept up on me was one I could not contain, that girl, she was just so happy. I could remember that feeling, on my birthday I felt the same. It's the only reason I knew.

I slithered from my bed, black nightshirt and bottoms clinging to me with sweat. As usual, it was freezing, but I'd had a nightmare. For the first time in a long time, I'd dreamt. It odd, I couldn't see much, I couldn't see anything but a reddish glow. It was hardly visible; the shade was so dark it blended with the blackness of the room. For what seemed like forever, I watched. Nothing seemed to happen, until my ears filled with a piercing ring. It was hard to believe what unfolded before me.

The reddish glow was overwhelmed by jumping blue sparks, not a sad or indifferent blue, but electric. The lights danced, it was so beautiful. I reached out to touch it, the tiny sparks made my arm hair stand on end and my skin prickle. A small smile graced my lips, and no sooner did it before the ringing grew to screech, a scream. Pain erupted in every inch of me, my ears felt like they were going to bleed and my eyes stung from the back forward. My throat went dry and my lips cracked, I felt like I was going to die. And then it was over.

And I woke up to the sound of that girl bouncing her ball in the room opposite of me.

It wasn't a bad way to wake up, honestly, her cheerfulness helped pull me from the pain of my dream. With each pump of my heart, however, my temples still ached. I'd come to learn it was due to overwhelming emotion. All their tests had at least shown me something. I guess I didn't really matter that much, the doctor-man stopped coming as often, and I rarely ever saw Bob anymore.

But today I did.

He entered the room the girl was in, carrying a package wrapped in bubblegum pink wrapping paper. For the first time ever, I actually saw Bob smile, but it seemed forced and wrong. His insides didn't match his outsides, and it didn't take my power to realize that. Apparently, the girl didn't, because she took the gift and tore the paper away with passionate fervor.

Her gift was a stuffed dog, white with brown spots. Even from as far away as I was, it looked impossibly soft and I had the intense urge to hold it, to squeeze it tight and will away the time until my mom got me out of this place. I didn't realize how close to the glass I'd moved until my nose pressed against it. Despite the cold, it was comfortable, and I put a hand up against the glass. My smile grew larger the happier the girl became; I could faintly hear thanks being exchanged. My breath created a cloudy fog, sending Bob and the girl in and out of focus. I could feel them both clearly from here, the girl so innocent and perfect and honest. And Bob, his emotion changed from what was nearly happiness to a distinct feeling of regret. The kind that makes you want to be sick.

He bid the girl goodbye and she hurried from the room, hugging her new toy. My eyes fixed on Bob; he looked around the room for a moment, before looking straight into the class. It had to be one-sided, because he looked straight past me. Still, the hardness in his eyes chilled me to the bone. In that moment, I deeply, desperately wanted the girl to come back. The girl with pale blonde curls and eyes the same hue as freedom.

The girl with emotions like glass.


	6. VI: Envy

**_ Note: Gabriel's name is spelled like the male version, but is pronounced Gaa-bree-elle, like the feminine version. I like to be difficult with names. Also, Gabriel's a she, not a he. It's near impossible to make that clear until later chapters while writing in first person._**

**VI. ENVY**

**Negativity, Jealousy**

It simply wasn't fair!

Why did she get to run all over the facility, why did she get new toys and gifts, why did she get to be free and happy and everything I was kept from?! I wanted to be like her, I wanted to have someone who loved me enough to take care of me. How come she got it and I didn't? I wanted my mom to come back; I wanted to see my family and my friends. I wanted to go home and sleep in my own bed. Most of all, I just wanted this power to go away!

I didn't want to see how people were feeling; I didn't want them constantly annoying me with their emotions. I just wanted to live a normal life. Clearly, none of that was going to happen. My mom wasn't coming back, this power was never going to go away, and I was going to be stuck in the same whitewash room forever.

I threw myself backwards onto the bed, cracking my head on the stone wall. Pain grasped me, making the room spin a bit. Tears welled up in my eyes, and I struggled to hold them back. There was no reason to cry, no one was going to come and comfort me. My fingers gently grasped the wound; I could feel wetness coating my fingertips. Great, I was bleeding and I had no idea what to do. This wasn't a hospital; we didn't get a call-nurse button or anything.

As I brainstormed a way to stop the blood flow, the lock clicked and the door opened. A man entered, one I didn't recognize. My eyes connected with his, I immediately knew he was different than the others who came to see me. He was putting off waves of worry and concern. It was comforting to know that someone in this place cared for me, at least a little bit.

Before I knew it, this newcomer had whisked me out of my room and down to what looked like a medical ward. He sat me down on a gurney before searching around for supplies. He returned with gauze, wrap, and some rubbing alcohol. "What's your name?" He asked, pulling me from my thoughts. "Gabriel." I replied, flinching slightly as he cleaning my cut. "Gabriel Stewart, I read your file. You have one of the most interesting powers I've seen in a while…" I looked down into my lap, and he apologized. "Sorry, I didn't mean to bring up anything bad." I would've shaken my head, but he was cleaning it.

"I'm Noah."

"It's nice to meet you…" The conversation seemed to drop off after that, until my head was all wrapped and I was ready to go. "I'm going to go throw this away, wait right here…" Noah said, bundling up the dirtied supplies and walking away. I watched him go, but my eyes fluttered to the bed that was cut off from the rest of the room by a curtain. Who was in there? One step, two steps, three and I was there. Gently, I pulled back the curtain, hardly making any noise at all, just to see a familiar face.

It was that girl.

The same girl whose birthday I'd witnessed, the girl who Bob seemed to love but not, the one with such fierce emotions. It was disconcerting to see her like this, lying on the bed, sick. Her skin was impossibly pale; there were deep purple bags under her eyes. She didn't seem to be sleeping peacefully at all; I could feel tinges of pain from her. This wasn't the same girl I remembered, it couldn't-

"What are you doing?"

I was certain I jumped five feet in the air. Whipping around, I yanked the curtain closed and found Noah standing directly behind me. "Sorry! I just wanted to see who that was…" He didn't seem angry, though, so the explanation was probably not needed. Shaking his head, he put a soft hand on my back and led me towards the door. "That's Elle." He explained quietly, almost like he was afraid someone would hear him. "She's very sick."

"Is she going to be okay?" I received no answer from Noah.

Within minutes, I was back in my room. Noah stood in the doorway for a moment, before speaking. "Be careful." He said. "Don't let them control you. You can stop them if you want it enough." With that, he shut the door, and I was once again locked in the room. What was he talking about? He must've known something that I didn't, he seemed like he was hiding something. I wonder if it was what Bob was hiding, too. Maybe they knew the girl-Elle-had been sick all along. Maybe they made her that way. Then again, I didn't really care for her.

I was worried about myself.


	7. VII: Schadenfreude

  


**VII****. SCHADENFREUDE**

**Pain, Thrill, Suffering, Pity, Torment**

They'd set it up overnight.

I woke to the sounds of hammers and drills, metal on stone, people talking. It was odd to hear so much commotion, no one ever seemed to come around here, so why now? Sleep tempted me to return, but I finally sat up and looked out the glass window. On the other side, they were setting some contraption up. It looked like a metal gurney, fixed to the floor, wired up to a bunch of machines. The thing that struck me most was the restraints. They were also made from metal, not very comfortable. If they were going to contain someone there, it would be extremely painful.

Or maybe they wanted it to be that way.

It wouldn't really surprise me if they wanted this whole place to be horrible. I mean, my treatment hadn't been great over years I'd been in the facility. I was fed, clothed, given a roof to sleep under, but I wasn't really cared for. I'd only ever seen three people until this day, the doctor-man, Bob, and Noah. Four, if you counted the glass girl. Even those I hadn't seen for a while, I'd begun to give up hope on them returning. Just like my mother.

Slowly, I rose from my bed, walking up to the window. They'd replaced it, I looked at the men and they looked straight back at me. I got the sinking feeling that whatever they were building at the moment was going to include me. No wonder I hadn't seen anyone for a while, they'd been planning whatever this was! For a while, I just watched the men. It was odd to see people after so long, and their emotions were normal enough that I was entertained. A small smile curled onto my lips, but faded nearly instantly as someone I recognized entered the room. Her glossy black hair was longer and the dark circles under her eyes were gone, but it most certainly was her.

My mother.

We locked gazes; I couldn't help but stare deeply into her copper eyes. They were just so warm and inviting, full of life, just like before. She smiled softly at me, said nothing, just smiled. My eyelids grew heavy, no matter how much I struggled, I could not keep them open. No matter how much I wanted to stay by the window and watch the one person I'd missed the most, I couldn't help but stumble over to my bed and crawl under my covers.

I couldn't help but fall asleep.

The room was black, completely dark except for a reddish glow. Hardly visible at first, it grew, dancing through the darkness with the fluidity of water. All this seemed vaguely familiar, but I was captivated by the beauty of it. I just couldn't look away. A cold feeling crept up my spine, making the hairs on the back of my neck stand up straight. Another glow manifested itself in the far end of the room, a blue, the same color as ice. This glow was more solid than the red, it didn't dance, it merely was.

Oddly enough, it was completely silent, until little cracks and pops hit my ears. Mixed with the red were dancing blue sparks, nearly the same shade as the blue glow. As these sparks grew, the red faded, like they were stealing their energy from the warm glow. A scream faded, being overwhelmed by the intense pounding in my temples. My head ached, alternating between periods of sharp pain and dull. My breaths shortened, it became harder to get anything from them. I felt like I was choking, drowning in pain.

And I woke up.

They'd dimmed the lights in my room, enough so that it appeared that the only light was coming from the room across from mine. Whatever the men had been working on earlier was finished, and there was someone strapped into the chair. Her small form was strapped into the bed, various wires ran from her to different machines. I quickly learned, much to my dismay, that the poor girl was awake. And she was crying.

Someone who I'd remembered as being filled with passion and fire had been broken, trapped, frightened. I'd remembered her as strong and clear and the truest person I'd met, and something had happened to fog that up. Gone was the piercingly refreshing emotions she normally gave off, replaced by a somewhat more foggy and depressing despair. I knew there was a reason I had a bad feeling earlier, I knew that they were building something bad involving me.

I just didn't think they were going to involve her.

I still resented her, don't get me wrong, but I feared what was to come. She feared it, too, you didn't need my power to know that. It was written all over her face. Pity filled my lungs, giving me a bad taste in my mouth. I didn't want to feel bad for her, I simply did. Standing, I walked up close to the glass, merely watching. And, for a moment, she looked me straight in the eye. It was like she knew what it would do to me, that I would see every emotion that ran through her, that I would feel just like she did. It felt like she was playing me, and I did not like it one bit. Hence the reason why I did not notice the small hum that filled my room, nor did I much pay attention to the girl's emotions. I tried to block them out, if she wanted me to feel I simply wouldn't. But it was easier said than done.

I diverted my gaze, choosing to rather stare upon the white tile than into the room. The hum grew louder and had become dominate before I finally noticed it, and despite the fact that I was trying to shut myself off, bits and pieces still managed to get through. Pain, horror, anger, it was all a swirl of confusion. Signs of someone who was lost, or under great stress. I couldn't make myself look up, the feelings were enough to quell my curiosity. Little by little, I was forced to open up, unless the floodgates crack and fall. I could feel a distinct, sharp pain in my temples, sometimes bad enough to make me softly cry out in agony. If I was feeling this when blockading some of the flow, I could only imagine what she was feeling.

It made me look up.

A gasp escaped me, not out of pain, but out of awe. She seemed to glow a deep red, intense and clear, completely and utterly true. While it was not a pleasant emotion, she was still being what I had imagined her to be, a crystal, made of glass. She could not fog what she felt for very long, not from me. No matter how beautiful it was, it started to get to me, the stress beginning to make my joints ache. Her face was contorted in pain, she struggled against her restraints. I could feel pressure in the same places.

And, suddenly, it stopped.

The door to her room unlocked, then opened, revealing Bob. He was feeling as usual, immersed in his cool, unfeeling blue. Slowly, he walked up to the girl, cupping her face. I could see her cheeks were glistening with wetness. That was when I realized that I was crying, too. Roughly, I wiped my face, drying it as quickly as possible. For some reason, I didn't want Bob to see. I didn't want him to know what this was doing to me. Bob stood there for a long moment, before turning and walking towards the exit. It was nice to see another familiar face, Noah, had approached and was standing in the doorway.

"Don't you think that's enough for one day, Bob?" He asked, the same sincerity about him as the day I met him. Bob didn't answer right away. He looked back at the girl, then back at Noah. A small smile seemed to form on his lips, barely noticeable, but I could see it. I could see it well. "No, my girl's tougher than that." Bob simply replied. Noah didn't protest, and both left the room.

The hum returned, the ache and the sharpness in my temples. My spit seemed to catch in the back of my throat and congeal, making it harder and harder to breathe. No matter how hard I tried, I could not tear my eyes away from the girl. Whatever they were doing, it was visible on her now. Her body arched as much as the restraints would allow, she seemed to jerk in ways that just weren't natural. I gripped my hands into fists, I could feel my nails begin to dig into the skin of my palms, but that didn't even come close to the electric feeling I could feel across my skin. Sparks began to jitter across her skin, the same cold blue as Bob. I searched for the man, I could barely detect him with how overwhelming she was, but he was definitely there. Ever so slightly, his emotion had changed. Ever so slightly, I could tell, he was enjoying this. Enjoying her pain.

His own daughter.

As the sparks increased on her, the feeling increased on me, going from unpleasant shocks to pure agony. Ever so true to her emotions, she cried out in pain, but I bit down on my tongue to prevent from doing so. A distinct taste filled my mouth, a liquid with the faintest twinge of metal. I tried to concentrate on that rather than on everything else, it did not work. She just seemed to keep screaming and hollering like it was going to somehow make this stop. But, all of a sudden, she just tapered off. Her movements seemed to be completely compulsory, and her glow seemed to fade from agony to a dull ache.

I placed a hand on the glass to steady myself as my knees gave out, my other furiously gripping my pants. Beads of sweat rolled down my forehead and I began to feel dizzy. Before I knew it, I had hit the floor with a hard thud. Everything hurt, absolutely everything. It was just like in my dream. This was my dream. I'd lived it, and I realized just how much more terrifying it was than when I was sleeping. She'd been in such pain, pain that I hadn't even felt in full, and worst of all, Bob enjoyed it. He enjoyed making his own daughter go through such excruciating testing, and he made her keep going. He made her keep going until her body gave way. My mother would never do that to me, I thought, until I remembered that it was she that put me here. She was just as bad as Bob. As the door opened and two men dressed in white ran into my room, time began to slow and my vision began to fade.

Only the gentle pounding of my heart in my throat reminded me that I was still alive.

  



	8. VIII: Guilt

**_Note: With this section, we're officially halfway through! Thanks to everyone who's kept reading this long. _  
**

**VIII**** GUILT**

**Worry, Vulnerability**

"Let me out! Let me out goddammit!"

No matter how hard and loud I yelled, no one ever seemed to come. No one seemed to care. It'd been weeks since that day, but only a few days since I'd awoken. Every waking moment I spent yelling, then searching, then yelling again. My throat grew scratchy and my lips cracked and bled, but to no avail. Nothing seemed to change. I just sat alone, in my cell, my prison, rotting. I beat the door with my palms until they bled, but no one came to wrap them. No Noah, no Bob, no doctor-man.

No glass girl.

Elle, her name was Elle. The girl with the blonde hair and blue eyes and clearness. I'd woken up with her in the bed next to me, still completely unconscious, just to learn we'd both been out for nearly two weeks. Two whole weeks. Her father had done this to her, done this to us, and no one knew if she was going to wake up. Noah had said it was a miracle that I'd even woken up, seeing how much stress had been put on my body. He'd also said it was likely that she'd never wake up. The resentment in his voice had seeded in my brain, growing, spreading. I hated Bob, despised him, and I knew if I got the chance I would kill him. Make him feel just like Elle did.

I gripped my hands tightly into fists, punching at the thick metal door, being satisfied with a refreshing thud with each blow. "Open this door!" I screamed, arms falling to my sides. My chest heaved with each breath, and I retreated to my bed, sitting down. My hands were sore, but I blocked it out. This pain was nothing compared to what I had experienced before. Shutting my eyes, I began to search. There were people, sure, but none were alarmed, and none seemed familiar.

Except one.

Elle was in the same spot that she'd been in since I woke up, she was still in a coma. She was encased in a swirl of colors, she had to be dreaming. The kind of dream where your eyes flicker behind your eyelids and you talk in your sleep. The kind of dream you have when you're halfway between sleep and wake. She was going to wake up! She had to wake up, that's what this had to mean. There's no way she could just give up, it'd be easier but she couldn't just stay asleep. Bob would win that way. If she just woke up, he wouldn't win, we could take him out. We could escape and be free.

I stood, running full force at the door, slamming my shoulder into it. "Please let me go!" I hollered, it just stayed the same. I had to do something, though, so I kept beating the door, hoping it would just break down and I could run. No, not run. Get Elle, then run. I couldn't just let them keep hurting her. Even after everything I'd felt, the guilt and the jealousy, I wanted to save her. Dearly. I felt guilty and responsible because I didn't do a damn thing when I saw what Bob was doing. I could've done something.

My only choice was to save her now.


	9. IX: Comfort

**IX****. COMFORT**

**Modesty, Humility, Amusement, Kindness, Happiness, Joy, Glee**

"I'm sorry."

After all that, all the restless nights and the torturous days, that was the best thing I could think to say to her. Nothing deep, nothing profound, not even something that was remotely comforting. Just a hollow, empty 'I'm sorry.' Like I didn't care, like I didn't mean it. More than anything, I just wanted to make it up to her. I wanted her to know that I truly was sorry that I couldn't do anything, that I couldn't help, that I crumpled in the face of pressure. She experienced pain I could hardly fathom, and all I could think to say is 'I'm sorry.'

But, she understood.

Bob had been keeping her in this room full time, now that she was fully recovered. I hadn't gotten the courage to say anything until then. The grate between our rooms easily allowed sound through, so we can easily talk. My throat was still rough, my voice cracked, even though I'd been speaking with Noah quite a bit since the incident. Guess he felt bad for me or something. The days had once again become monotonous, despite her presence. No tests had been done; no one had even come close to our rooms. At least not while I was awake. I just watched her.

When she wasn't looking, of course.

She paced a lot, like it was hard for her to sit still. I could tell that she bit down on her lower lip when she was thinking about something that caused a conflict in her, and that she would sometimes smile at her own thoughts. She twirled her hair while she read, and sometimes wrapped it in her hands when she slept. When she laid down, she always laid down on her back, but would end up on her stomach come morning.

I liked to think she watched me when I wasn't looking, too.

Today was the day, I'd told myself. Today I'd finally talk to her. It wasn't so hard when I finally managed to get those two words out, but it didn't seem to go all that smoothly. "Come again?" She asked. "Speak louder, I can't hear you."

"I'm sorry." I spoke louder, clearer, she got it that time. A solemn smile graced her features, and her head hung ever so slightly. A single, curly lock fell into her face, she brushed it away. "For what?" I stepped closer to the glass as she did, my dark eyes connecting with hers through the pane. "For letting him do that to you." She shook her head. "If anyone's to blame, it's him, not you. Thanks, though, for caring."

"I was worried; I thought you were going to die. You didn't wake up for so long…"

"The important thing is, I didn't die. No harm done." I wanted to believe it was true, that she was really the same after such a brutal torture. But she so clearly wasn't, her lie was laughable. I could see the pain in her eyes without even using my power, and with it I could see a distinct sadness in her aura. She was alive, but she certainly wasn't okay.

So I decided to talk to her, I thought it would help cheer her up a bit. Maybe if we were friends, she would feel better. Hell, maybe I'd feel better. Over the course of a few weeks, we talked about everything. Everything we could think to discuss, it was spoken. I learned she was 13, making her a year older than me. My age had stayed a mystery until Noah had told me, it wasn't like my birthday was ever celebrated. She'd lived her whole life her, she'd said. I couldn't imagine doing that, I'd only been there for six years and I wanted to die. I'd learned that her favorite animal was the panda, and that she loved to ride her bike. We'd agreed that the best thing ever would be to go swimming in the ocean, and to eat in a restaurant. From the moment I'd begun to talk to her, I decided on a plan of action.

First, I was going to build her up piece by piece.

  



	10. X: Peace

**X****. PEACE**

**Contentment, Calmness**

It had been a year like no other. A year spent completely in peace, with no men in white coats, no drugs, and most importantly, no Bob. Just me and Elle, and occasionally Noah. Every day we'd wake up and have breakfast together, sitting next to the grate so we didn't have to yell. She must have showered while I was still sleeping that day, because when we ate breakfast I could smell the slightest hint of soap.

Today was pancakes, a meal I actually enjoyed. Lightly, I spread on some butter, before proceeding to eat. I could see her plate, though obstructed, through the grate. She was drowning her pancakes in syrup. She always did like sweet things, I suppose. Mostly, we just talked, not really about anything in particular. It was just nice for the both of us to hear each other's voice.

By the time noon rolled around, I'd have gotten myself in and out of the shower. This was the time when I'd play with the rubber ball Noah had given to me, and Elle would proceed to tell me about whatever book she was reading or the latest gossip from a tabloid magazine she'd been gifted. None of it really made sense to me, I didn't know the people, but that didn't really matter. Just listening to her speaking, feeling her passion, was enough to spark a tingly feeling in my stomach. It wasn't a bad feeling, it was actually quite the contrary. I wanted it to keep happening. I wanted to feel like I was floating when I looked at her, and I wanted to lose all my dreams to her. She was enough to make me happy, even in when locked away in some godforsaken prison.

I hoped I was the same kind of savior to her.

That day flew by, and finally, it became night. The lights were slowly dimmed until it was pitch black inside the rooms. The only light was what filtered in from the hallway. Elle and I both retreated to our beds, slipping under the covers. As of late, I'd been falling asleep straight away, but that wasn't to be tonight. I lied awake in my bed, staring up at the ceiling for what seemed like an eternity. It was silent besides my occasional movements and consistent breathing, until an odd sound reached my ears. It took minutes for me to finally realize what it was.

Elle was crying.

I rolled out of my bed, the cold air of the room unforgiving as I hurried over to the vent. "Elle!" I spoke in a quiet voice, only to receive no response. I stood, peering through the glass. She was still in bed, the light reflected off her golden hair. "Elle!" I tried again, louder this time, but still no reply. She had to be sleeping, which meant I had to wake her up. Returning to the vent, I yelled her name in a voice loud enough that I knew it would wake her. She sat straight up in bed, the whimpering and crying replaced by a deep breathing. I watched her dry her face off on the sheets before wrapping them around herself and walking up to the glass. Even with such little light, I could tell she was a mess.

"Sorry, did I wake you up?" Her voice cracked when she spoke, and I quickly shook my head. "No, I was already awake. Are you alright?" Elle smiled at me ever so slightly. "I'm okay, it was just a nightmare. You ever have them?" I rolled my eyes. "I'm not an alien, Elle. I have them too. Anything you wanna talk about?" One thing I was consistent about with her was that I was always there if she needed to talk. I was a stone, and nothing could crack me. I would always be there, I would always be loyal. I was everything she needed, whenever she needed it.

"Not really, I think I'm just going to go back to sleep. Try and get some rest, alright? I don't want you falling asleep during our lively activities tomorrow." The sarcasm a relief, we both returned to our beds, and I was asleep within moments.

When I woke that morning it was to something nice.

The lights had been turned on around waking time, though they'd failed to get me up and going for the day. Instead, I slept in, and Elle must have too because she was in the shower as I shook grogginess from my mind. The sound of the running water was comforting, and although the steam filled her room and fogged the window, I could hear a pleasant sound.

She was singing.

I didn't recognize the song, but she had a beautiful voice. It was a shame I'd never heard it before, I was always asleep. Instead of getting up, I stayed in bed, the sweet sound of song threatening to return me to sleep despite the intensity of the light. This was special, something she only did when she thought no one else was around to hear. If all the others things hadn't already proved that she was a goddess, this did. When I heard the singing stop and the water turn off, I got out of bed, walking up to the glass.

It was only a minute before she walked up to the glass and wiped some of the steam off, allowing me to see her and her to see me once more. She was wrapped simply in a towel, I suppose she didn't expect me to be up. Despite the fact that she'd dried off, droplets of water dripped from her hair onto her shoulders, the same drops rolling across her collarbone and into the towel. A blush tinted her cheeks, I could see it through the remaining moisture on the glass. I smiled, putting the emotions raging in me forward as best I could.

She smiled back.

  



	11. XI: Dissappointment

**XI. DISSAPPOINTMENT**

**Frustration, Irritability, Embarrassment, Inadequacy, Shame**

"Push harder, Elle."

His voice cut through the room like a dagger, every sound impossibly sharp, each syllable armed with a barb. I could hear the anger dripping off his words, the pure disappointment he felt. It radiated in his being, and it reflected on her. Elle was trying so hard, sweat rolled down her brow, blinding her. But still she pushed, she didn't dare give up. I knew how devoted she was to her father, still, after all these years of torture. She didn't want to disappoint him, she wanted to be daddy's little girl.

It made me sick, the way she pushed herself so hard that she need days, weeks to recover. She did it consistently, just to please him, to make him happy. I gripped my hand tightly into a fist, I could feel my nails digging into my palm. I wanted to do something, I needed to do something, but I'd learned I couldn't fight against him. Hell, Elle would probably even attack me if he ordered it. Tears burned in the back of my eyes.

There was nothing I could do but watch.

I could merely watch as Elle drained herself, electricity flowing from her body in crackling bolts, all while he kept yelling commands. I bit down on my tongue, soon it would be over. Soon it would be over and she would be safe once again, and we wouldn't have to worry about Bob for a while. He would leave us be and we could be happy, at least for a while. That's all we wanted, all we could hope for in this obscene level of hell.



I stood in the middle of my bland room, watching, watching until he finally let her stop. Despite how much she tried to stand, Elle fell to her knees, blonde locks masking her face, drenched with sweat. Bob didn't seem to care, he merely turned and left the room, the lock shifting into place with a sickening crack. I ran to the window, pressing myself against it. My breath fogged the cool glass, not doing much to help my teary vision.

"Elle?! Are you okay?" She didn't answer me right away, her crystalline blue eyes were fixed on the tile floor. Finally, after an eternity, she nodded. I knew it was a lie. She was never okay after these, she always wanted to push as hard as her father wanted, but no matter she gave, it was never enough. The shame radiated off of her in gray waves. She'd given it her all once again, but he still wasn't happy. He'd never be happy.

"Don't lie to me, Elle. I know you're not okay." I wanted to be there, to hold her, to comfort her to the best of my ability. But I couldn't, this damn glass separated us. Like always. "Just lie down, rest. It's what you need right now." It took her endless minutes to gather her strength to stand and make it to the bed, and it seemed that she was asleep as soon as she hit the mattress.

I held my ground for a while, just watching her sleep. Even after an ordeal like that, with the intense shame and disgust she felt at herself, she somehow managed to look peaceful in sleep. The redness in her face slowly disappeared, leaving her the porcelain color I was used it. It contrasted against my sandy skin, even after not seeing sunlight for years I was far darker than her. In features, we contrasted in almost every possible way. I was dark haired and dark eyed, she was blonde haired and blue eyed. I was built like a racehorse, meant for strength and stamina. She was lighter, seemingly built for agility. Even though we were so different on the outside, something just clicked on the inside.

We couldn't explain it, but we worked. Something about her just drew me in, something unexplainable. She'd often expressed the same thing about me. We didn't question it too much, though; it didn't matter in the long run. The only thing that did matter was our feelings towards each other, their intensity. I wasn't sure about her, but at that point I could grasp what I felt, to some degree. It was love.

This is what love was, love meant an inexplicable connection, something that just pulled you to another person. Love meant sacrificing and striving and suffering, love meant caring even when you knew you shouldn't. Love was beautiful and ugly all at the same time, and I wouldn't have it any other way. No matter how much it hurt, no matter how much I had to go through because of her, I'd stay put. The happiness she gave me without even trying, just seeing her smile, hearing her voice, it made all the suffering worth it. Day after day I'd continue to put myself through hell just to see her beautiful face at the end of the tunnel.

But I knew, I knew that love also meant doing whatever it took to take care of her. No matter how much she didn't want me to, no matter how hard it would be. I knew it had to get her out of this place and away from her father.

If I wanted her to live, I had to rescue her.


End file.
